_Eshwar_

A tragedy...
An abrupt departure...
Death...
And rebirth.

Pain, rage, struggle, and blood honed a sword.
A sword sharp enough to sever through reality and reveal what lies beyond.

It unveiled something,
Or rather, someone, incomprehensible and unprecedented....
A being who seems to weave the threads of fate.

Does he truly exist, or is he merely a manifestation of another's will?
If he does exist, what purpose does he serve?
Is there really a purpose, or is it just another will imposed upon him?
If it is another's will, can he defy it?
Can he turn his sword against his creator,
A being who literally writes his reality?

Or will he be consumed by the abyss from which his power flows,
Forever lost in the shifting void of his own making?

The Blind Swordsman.

"Hello, 'Saviour'~" Whispered the man, whose right wrist flinched and by the next instant, he faced the sheathed sword's grip, against the feet that he dodged and defended against with a jerk of his head and quite an unorthodox manoeuvre of his sword, respectively.

The sword came undone from its sheath at the kick, but undeterred, he reached and took ahold of the up jolted sword's grip and with a flick of his wrist, in a clockwise arc the sword tip face the ground, while the 'Saviour' flinched at the words that left his lips.

A rippling gust exploded out from the now non-existent point of contact, and

His action created a vertical crater on the ground beside, yet they were unconcerned about the consequences of their actions currently.

The 'Saviour's' mana flared and the probable casualties behind, disappeared.

Insanity?